


Over My Head

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Prompt Fills 2018 [56]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 00:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the AU comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, any ensemble, the roadie crew for a singer or band."After leaving the Air Force, Evan joins the road crew for a band he knows nothing about. Better to not be distracted than be a fanboy. He gets in over his head with Rodney, who he thinks works for the stage crew.





	Over My Head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SherlockianSyndromes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my friend SherlockianSyndromes!
> 
> So much gratitude to the beautiful Brumeier for helping me get this over the finish line and being a wonderful beta.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know zero about being a roadie beyond what I've seen at concerts.

 

Evan hadn’t been sure what to do with himself once he retired from the Air Force. It was John Sheppard, of all people, who got him lined up with a gig. Being a roadie for a musical artist had never been anywhere on Evan’s radar, since he’d trained as a surveyor and geophysicist at the Academy and then been a C-130 pilot for most of his career. But John had a point - they were flyboys, and being up high or dangling from ropes didn’t scare them. Evan was smart and organized, and he’d be good on the team. Plus he’d trained in logistics and was good at managing people, and apparently John was on the road crew for a band whose leader was the quintessential diva.

So Evan said yes, and he was back in a quasi-uniform - comfortable black jeans and a black t-shirt - and climbing rigging and wrangling lights and directing others on the crew to move boxes of lights. The rest of his team for the high-flyers included John, Teyla, an ex-Marine named Laura, and another ex-flyboy named Cam. Ronon led most of the ground crew, hauling the massive speakers and overseeing set construction at each venue.

Chuck was in charge of the sound, Radek in charge of the lights.

The band, Absolute Zero (their logo was not a zero but actually the scientific designation for absolute zero, -273 degrees Kelvin), was some kind of prog rock deal, almost like Queen, with dramatic, sweeping, operatic-symphonic numbers, speed metal, and what sounded like power ballads. The band leader was one Meredith McKay, a classical music genius who played both the piano and the drums (and he had a massive crystal piano, all clear and heavy as hell to move and Ronon hated it, but it was beautiful). The lead singer was Meredith’s sister, Jeannie, who had five octaves to her name and was just as strong-willed and genius as her older brother. Miko, the guitarist, was also a trained violinist. Kate, the bassist, was also a trained ballet dancer, and in the middle of concerts she’d dance while Miko played her violin.

The good thing about signing on to the crew during tour rehearsals was that Evan got to know his team really well, got to learn the set-up and break-down process so he could analyze it and propose efficiency improvements. He rarely stuck around to watch during actual rehearsals, because he’d see the show enough when the tour was underway. Most of the time he was distracted by other things while the band was onstage (while Miko was constantly tuning her slipping E-string on her violin and Meredith was shouting  _ flat, flat, you’re all flat! _ and Kate was pirouetting with her bass and Jeannie was demanding  _ which of us has perfect pitch? _ and there was then an explosive debate about perfect pitch versus absolute pitch), and when he did pause to listen when he heard a song he liked, well, usually he was too far up in the rigging and catwalks to really  _ see _ the band.

A week before the band was set to depart on tour, Evan was pretty sure the high flyers had all the kinks ironed out, could set up and take down in the fastest time possible.

To celebrate their victory, they all went out to dinner at a local pub that had really good microbrew beer and also a karaoke machine.

Teyla was a phenomenal singer. Radek not so much, but he had dances to go with the songs he sang even when he was sober, and he put on a pretty good show. John was an okay singer, but nothing to write home about. He and Cam sang together pretty well, though, an old Johnny Cash tune. Laura was a tap dancer, and one time she danced while Teyla sang a jazzy number from a musical.

Evan himself was a terrible singer, so he was relegated to attempting to rap along to a song while Teyla sang, which was pretty embarrassing, but the others’ ribbing was good-natured.

After an evening of music, laughter, good food, and good drinks, everyone stumbled outside and into cabs to head back to their homes. In a week, they’d all be crammed onto tour buses, and it’d be like living in the barracks all over again, far from home. Evan planned on bringing his pet cactus with him so he had a bit of home even on the road. When he’d been deployed he hadn’t even managed that.

Evan fell into deep, untroubled sleep, dreaming of lights and music and cheering crowds and a different kind of high-flying.

*

John and Cam had warned him - the first night of the tour would be a disaster, everyone discovering the weak points in the system that only came to light when the real pressure was on.

So that first night, Evan was prepared, headset and radio fully charged before he went on deck, clad head-to-toe in black, ready to be anywhere he was needed.

John and Cam were right. A live audience was steam in a closed valve, and where Evan had been sure they had everything streamlined, things fell apart. Halfway through the show they lost a spotlight, so he and John had to to repair the thing before it was needed for a big number, John on a harness and dangling over the side of the catwalk while Evan shone a blacklight so he could see without being seen, handing him tools and trying to hear him over the audience singing along to some kind of stadium anthem.

Near the end of the show, one of the overhead light effects failed to descend, and Evan and the rest of the high flyers had to tackle the thing, working it manually even while Radek made the lights flash and spin. Good thing they wore black and weren’t afraid of heights.

But they survived it, the first night of tour, and once everything was broken down and back on the trucks, they headed for their own buses and crawled into their own bunks. The others fell asleep fast, like so many soldiers and airmen and Marines Evan had known, but he lay awake, thinking of how things could go better, would go better.

The next morning, at a rest stop, Evan descended from the bus to get coffee for everyone. Other members of the crew from other buses were crowded in the convenience store, stocking up on beer and energy drinks and snacks for the road, so they’d be raring to go when they reached the venue.

Evan stood in line behind a man with dark blond hair, who was quizzing the attendant extensively about whether the pastries were citrus-free, because he had a severe citrus allergy. If the tour bus had better facilities Evan would cook for his bunk mates, because in the long run it was healthier and cheaper, but living on the road was shaping up to be a different kind of rough than deployment.

“Um...the glazed donuts are definitely citrus-free,” the teenage girl said finally.

“Excellent. I’ll take one. And a coffee,” the man said. He was wearing a faded band t-shirt and had muscular forearms and biceps. He might have been one of the stage roadies, long-familiar with the band and trusted to help them with their performance up close and personal. Something about his face was familiar.

Evan nudged him. “Hey, I’m getting coffee for my bus. We’re all in this together, right? I got yours.”

The man turned to look at him, startled. He had lovely blue eyes. “What? But I can afford my own -”

Evan smiled at him. “Go team, remember?” To the attendant he said, “I got this guy’s stuff. Plus about a dozen more coffees.”

The attendant nodded, and Evan handed her his debit card.

“Which bus are you on?” Evan asked, once he’d paid and stepped aside so he could fill the coffee cups for his bunkmates.

The man blinked at him. “Are you serious?”

“I’m new this tour, don’t know everyone’s faces yet,” Evan said.

“Ah. Well, my name is - Rodney. And I’m on - one of the buses further to the front of the convoy.”

“I’ve seen you around. Still don’t know all the stage crew yet. I’m one of John and Cam’s flyers.” Evan mixed everyone’s coffee how they liked it - Cam and John liked it soldier-black, as did Laura; Radek liked his super sweet, and Teyla liked hers with cream - and made sure everything had lids and cardboard collars before he put them into the little cardboard carrying holders.

“Good for you.” Rodney still looked a little perplexed.

“How do you like your coffee?” Evan asked.

“One cream, two sugars,” Rodney said, and Evan plucked his cup from him, fixed it up for him.

“I’ll remember that for next time. See you later, Rodney.” Evan smiled and headed back to the bus.

He distributed the coffee, and then he sat with his team on the bus, talking about what had gone wrong and what they could do better that night.

“Third night’s the charm,” Laura said. “That’s when the band really hits it, gets it all right, and they’re excited about it, flying high. After that - it’s all just kind of routine. But routine is good. Routine means no real big problems.”

“Knock on wood,” Radek said, and Teyla did.

Laura was right. They managed to smooth out some of the kinks on the second night, but the third night was like magic. Everything ran like clockwork. Evan felt the rush of adrenaline, almost like the rush of taking flight, but far less stressful. The audience roared and cheered, the band sounded phenomenal, and Evan was damn proud of the band and the team.

Everyone was still flying high on adrenaline when they climbed back onto the buses after the last of the boxes were loaded.

Radek broke out his private stash of becherovka, Teyla had her stash of ruus wine, and John and Cam - they had a mother-load of shot glasses.

Evan didn’t actually feel like getting smashed like a college kid again, so he begged off, and at the next stop at a convenience store - when Ronon and Cam went to get mixers to go with the drinks - Evan ended up hopping buses. 

Somehow he ended up on a bus with a bunch of people he didn’t know, where another party was going on, this one mostly food instead of drinking, but Evan - he wanted to come down. They’d had a perfect night. He wanted a quiet spot where he could close his eyes and just revel in the moment.

So he ducked past the table laden with overloaded nachos where a very complicated card game was going down and headed for the back bunk, which was double-wide and dark. It was unoccupied, so he sprawled out on it, closed his eyes, and steadied his breathing.

This was the moment he’d always thrilled in, when he was flying, when he took to the air. When everything was at his fingertips, walking the knife edge of disaster but in perfect control. He smiled and sighed happily.

“ - Damn hooligans,” someone muttered.

Evan opened his eyes - and saw Rodney plop down on the bed beside him, guitar in hand.

“Sometimes a man just wants some peace,” Rodney said, and strummed a chord.

Evan sat up, smiled. “Hey.”

Rodney yelped and almost fell off the bed. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

“Sorry, is this your bunk?” Evan offered Rodney his hand.

After a moment, Rodney accepted, let Evan pull him to his feet.

“No, but - I just wanted some peace and quiet,” Rodney said. “Well - relative quiet.” He held up his guitar.

“Me too,” Evan said.

Rodney eyed him for a moment, then finally perched on the edge of the bed. “This isn’t your bunk, is it?”

“No, my bus is further back, and I don’t have seniority for the biggest bed,” Evan said, even though everyone agreed John and Cam got the biggest bed because they were together. He scooted over, patted the space beside him. “I don’t bite.”

“I don’t have anything against biting per se,” Rodney said, and edged closer to him. Then he blushed. “I mean -”

Evan laughed. “It’s fine. I only bite if someone asks. Tonight’s show was awesome, wasn’t it? Everyone was on, even the band.”

“Yes, even the band,” Rodney said, and he was giving Evan that curious look again.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“No, your face is perfect, I just - you’re new this tour?”

Evan nodded. “Yeah. Signed on partway through rehearsals. I know a couple of the other high-flyers from before, and when I said I needed a new gig, they helped me out.” He looked at Rodney. “You really think my face is perfect?”

Rodney blushed again. “Well, your face is very attractive, and there isn’t anything on it - not in that  _ is there something on my face  _ kind of way. Obviously you have facial features -”

“Relax,” Evan said, laughing softly. “I’m just flirting with you.”

“You are?”

Evan shrugged. “Why not? You’re attractive, and you seem nice enough.”

“Plenty of people tell me I’m attractive, but no one ever says I’m nice,” Rodney said, staring at him. He didn’t seemed alarmed that another man was flirting with him, so Evan took that as a good sign.

“Does that mean you’re only nice to me?”

“...Maybe?” Rodney clutched his guitar tightly. “What’s your name? You didn’t say, the other day.”

“I’m Evan.” He offered a hand. “Nice to officially meet you.”

Rodney had a firm handshake despite his adorable fumbling. “Yes. Of course.”

“You play the guitar?” Evan asked.

Rodney nodded. “Yes. I was hoping to have some quiet, maybe work on a song.”

Evan sat up straighter. “You write songs? That’s pretty awesome.”

“As long as you know the basic components of a song, writing a song is a fairly technical exercise. I leave lyrics to - someone else, for the most part,” Rodney said. “Writing a song is honestly rather - mathematical.”

“Pretty sure no one ever mentioned that in math class when I was in school.” Evan leaned in. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Rodney eyed him, then settled the guitar across his knees, tested the strings. “Sure. It - it’s kind of rough for now. I’ve got a melody and some lyrics, but chances are my lyricist will insist on something different.”

Evan drew his knees up to his chest, rested his chin on them. “You have your own lyricist? That’s very fancy.”

“Sure.” Rodney cleared his throat and began to strum minor chords. When he sang, he had a clear voice, on key, strong but not particularly sweet.

Maybe by this point Evan was kind of partial to Jeannie’s voice.

_ Moments broken by the fall _ __  
_ Still leave a shadow on the wall _ __  
_ Daggers lying in the dust _ __  
_ Bleeding out the both of us _ __  
__  
_ The roses have gone away _ __  
_ The blue skies are yesterday _ __  
_ The flood comes and as you cry _ __  
_ It echoes a lullaby _ __  
__  
_ Close the book and cut the line _ __  
_ Tear up the pages of the secrets _ __  
_ That you’re trying to leave behind _ __  
_ Burn down my memory _ __  
_ But still you’ll find _ _  
_ __ I’m always on your mind

Rodney let the final chord fade. “I don’t have particularly ornate plans for this one - another verse and chorus, bridge and chorus, done. Sometimes simple is better.”

“I like it,” Evan said. “A lot. Kind of sad, though. Nasty break-up?”

“Not recently. But - there have been many.” Rodney cleared his throat. “You?”

“No, but I didn’t date much, before.”

“Before what?” Rodney asked.

“I used to be in the armed forces, so…”

“Ah. That ridiculous don’t ask, don’t tell thing. In Canada we’re much more civilized.” Rodney set his guitar aside, turned to look at Evan. 

“You’re Canadian?” Evan asked.

Rodney said, “And proud of it.”

Evan smiled. “That’s cool.”

Rodney looked him up and down. “So, for a guy who was in the armed forces, you’re - pretty bold. Flirting with me like you are.”

“Not in the armed forces anymore.” Evan shrugged. “I served my country, and I’m proud of the work I did, but that’s done now, and I’ve got the rest of my life to live. Do you mind that I’m flirting with you?”

“Actually - no,” Rodney said. “But - with how busy tour is, I don’t know how we can... _ be _ together.”

“I’m not asking you to marry me,” Evan said. “Just - when we’re between the big moments, we can spend time together. Get a meal, get a drink, watch a movie. You can test your songs on me.”

“That sounds nice,” Rodney said softly, almost to himself. Then he looked at Evan. “Can I kiss you?”

“If you like.”

Rodney set his guitar aside, reached out, curled his hand around the side of Evan’s neck. He tugged, and Evan leaned in, closed his eyes.

Their lips met, and happy tingles spread through Evan’s body. He put a hand on Rodney’s shoulder, and Rodney pressed closer, so Evan wrapped an arm around him, and they sank back, Rodney half on top of him, kissing and kissing and kissing.

Rodney’s mouth was soft and warm, and Evan’s heart thumped. He hummed into the kiss, parted his lips, let Rodney in for a taste. Rodney moaned and shifted, and then he was lying between Evan’s legs, the two of them pressed chest to chest, arms around each other, kissing like there was nothing better to do in the world.

Loud laughter from the front of the bus startled them, and they broke apart, panting.

“Wow,” Rodney said. “That was - nice. Really nice. But - there are others, and I’m not actually an exhibitionist.”

“Me neither,” Evan said. He stroked Rodney’s hair. “That was really nice. You should give me your number, and we should do this again.”

Rodney nodded, rolled off of him. They lay side-by-side, pressed together and sharing warmth, and fished their phones out of their pockets. Evan had missed a bunch of drunk texts from the others. He ignored them, fired up his address book.

“What’s your number?”

Rodney told him, and Evan offered up his number in return.

“So...I suppose I’ll see you after the show tonight?” Rodney asked.

Evan squinted at his watch. He still wore his old chronometer from service, because he liked the added complications. “It’s already the next day, isn’t it? Sure. Tonight. After the show.”

“I like you, Evan.”

“I like you too, Rodney.”

Rodney’s phone buzzed. He squinted at it. “I’d better go.” He scooped up his guitar. “Later.” And he was gone.

Evan closed his eyes and smiled. Tonight really had been perfect.

*

The next day, the others were nursing hangovers, but Evan was in a cheery mood. He bought all of them extra-strong black coffee, and they stopped at a diner, so he made them load up on greasy food to settle their stomachs, and it was on to the next venue.

Laura was right. After the third night, everything was like clockwork, so Evan could focus on his job, make sure set-up ran right, then make sure his end of the show ran smoothly, with the other flyers up in the catwalks working the spotlights and making sure all shone well on the performers below.

Sometimes between numbers, Evan squinted at the black-clad roadies scurrying around the stage, searching for Rodney, but he couldn’t spot him. Not that unusual, really, given that the roadies were wearing black and were all pretty much indistinguishable in the shadows.

John nudged him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Evan said.

“You’ve been acting twitterpated all day. Did you get lucky last night while the rest of us were getting wasted?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Evan said loftily.

John snorted. “Not an officer and a gentleman anymore.”

“Not an officer anymore,” Evan corrected him.

“But you met someone.”

“Yeah.”

“Good for you.” John clapped him on the back, and then he focused his spotlight on Meredith, who had taken to the piano for the next number, a sweeping power ballad about forever love.

Even though Meredith was the band leader for creative and musical purposes, Jeannie was hands down the face of the band, did most of the interacting with the audience, and Miko and Katie sang harmonies for her, their voices blending beautifully. Meredith put every ounce of passion into playing his instruments, and by the end he looked ready to faint.

But he stood with the others to take their bows, and then it was time for takedown.

Evan had to focus on his job so everyone could get out on time, stay on schedule, because on tour time was money, so he resisted the urge to try to find Rodney during takedown, just made sure all the band’s lights and rigging were disconnected from the house set-up, and once everything was where it needed to be on the ground, he descended from the catwalks with a few quick drops, like he was rappelling.

Ronon met up with him, John, Cam, and Teyla on the ground, invited them over to his bus where Vala was planning on hosting a party. Evan demurred, but he encouraged his teammates to go, because then he’d have the bus to himself.

With Rodney.

John cast him a knowing look, but then he slung an arm around Cam’s shoulders, and together they headed for Ronon’s bus, Teyla and Laura in tow.

Evan fired off a text message to Rodney, and then he hurried onto the bus, rinsed down as fast as he could and changed into fresh clothes. There was a knock at the door five minutes later. Evan finished tugging on his shirt and went to answer the door.

Rodney stood at the bottom of the steps, also looking freshly scrubbed, wearing a t-shirt that said  _ I’m With Genius _ with an arrow pointing up and a pair of old worn jeans that made his thighs look fantastic.

“Hey, c’mon in,” Evan said.

Rodney had his guitar with him, and he climbed onto the bus. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Partying on someone else’s bus.” Evan ended up putting down the table and arranging it and the benches at it so it was more like a bed. He found the blanket off his bunk. “I figure we can hang out, talk, whatever. I have movies on my laptop, and music.”

“I’m telling you right now that I’m pretty bad at dating. Half the time people don’t bother getting to know me. Not that I don’t mind sex up front, but -”

“But we can get to know each other.” Evan smiled. “I found some citrus-free snacks and beverages, and this bus is ours probably till the morning stop for fuel and coffee.”

Rodney sat down on the kitchen bunk beside him. “You remembered.”

“I don’t think stabbing my partner with an epi pen makes for a fun date,” Evan said.

“Epi pen?” Rodney echoed.

“Preparedness is key to air power,” Evan said.

Rodney stared at him. “Air power?”

“I was in the Air Force. By now it’s a joke.” Evan scooted back further on the bunk to make room for Rodney. “But yes, I do have an epi pen. Just in case.”

Rodney sat right up beside him, warm and firm, which was nice. “The Air Force. Were you a plane mechanic or something?”

“Pilot.”

“Like a fighter pilot?”

“In a pinch I can fly an F-16, but my thing was cargo. Slow and steady.” Evan shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about all those times his cargo had been nothing but flag-draped coffins. 

Rodney studied him. “Don’t pilots have to be officers?”

“I made captain before I mustered out, same as my buddies.”

“So...you went to college?”

“The Academy, actually.” Evan cleared his throat. “But enough about me. What about you? You play music and you’re on the tour crew.”

“Oh. Well - I’ve always played music. Piano, drums, guitar. Music makes sense to me. Music and numbers and science in general.”

Evan nudged him. “You’re like a one-man band. I like your singing voice.”

“Ah - thank you. People don’t really say that to me often.”

“No?”

“I don’t typically sing in public. Maybe one day. Other people sing better than me.” Rodney took a deep breath. “I had an excellent musical education - conservatory in Toronto, Julliard, another conservatory in Vienna.”

Evan blinked at him. “And now you’re on a road crew?”

“Classical music doesn’t really pay,” Rodney said, not without a bit of bitterness. “How come you’re a high flyer on a road crew and not a...commercial pilot?”

“Don’t think I could be a bus driver of the sky.” Evan shuddered. “No. Not for me. I wanted something - new. John and Cam, the other flyers - Cam was at the Academy with me, and all three of us were in flight school together. They hooked me up.”

“Surely being a roadie is a bit...beneath you. What did you major in? At the Academy.”

“Geophysics, logistics, and surveying,” Evan said.

Rodney sat up straighter. “So - you’re smart.”

“I’m not a genius,” Evan said, tugging at Rodney’s shirt lightly.

“Well, few people are. It’s what makes a genius,” Rodney said. “But - geophysics. So - you’re good at math and science.”

“Good enough for Uncle Sam. So - you enjoy road crew?”

“I do enjoy being on the road,” Rodney said. “I - don’t sit still well.”

“Me neither,” Evan admitted. “So - classical music? What you played the other night sounded a bit more - pop, or soft rock.”

“Like I said, classical music doesn’t pay. And I don’t mind writing songs people can sing along to.” Rodney cleared his throat and added, “I finished it, if you want to hear.”

“You finished it today?”

“I am a genius.” Rodney tugged his guitar onto his lap.

Evan leaned in and listened, watching him play. The song was lovelier than he remembered, and he liked the metaphors. When it ended, Evan applauded.

“You really like it?” Rodney asked. “You’re not just saying that because you like me?”

“I really do like it. And I really do like you. But I’m not afraid to speak my mind. Granted, compared to you I have pretty plebeian taste in music, so I don’t know that my opinion counts for much.” Evan smiled at him.

“Well, if you like it, it’s probably radio-friendly,” Rodney said.

“Probably.”

Rodney set his guitar aside. “So...what do you do? When you’re not being a pilot or a high-flyer.”

“Sleep,” Evan admitted. “Think of you.”

Rodney shoved him in the shoulder. “Be serious.”

Evan had to think for a moment. “I used to draw, when I was younger. I like cooking and baking, too, but the facilities here don’t really lend themselves to gourmet cuisine. Maybe one day I’ll cook for you.”

“I have zero artistic talent,” Rodney admitted. “Why drawing?”

“My mom’s an art teacher, so she taught me and my sister the basics. My sister’s a tattoo artist now.”

Rodney reached into his pocket, fished out one of those little moleskine notebooks and a pen. “I usually use this to make song notes, but - draw me.” He flipped to a blank page and handed the notebook and pen to Evan.

Evan stared down at them. “Really?”

Rodney nodded. “I want to see how good you are.”

“I’m kind of rusty,” Evan said, but as a surveyor he’d put his artistic skills to use. It was like riding a bike. “It could take a while. And be boring.”

“Well - I’ll serenade you.” Rodney scooped his guitar back up. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Surprise me.” Evan rested his chin in his hand, studied Rodney for a long moment. “Don’t mind me. I’m just admiring you. And getting warmed up.” He was pleased at the way Rodney flushed faint pink. 

He was so open with his feelings, wore his heart on his sleeve. “Right. Well...do you like the band’s music?”

Evan nodded, studying the line of Rodney’s jaw. He had a lovely jawline. “I do. I don’t know that I’d ever go into a record store and pick up an album just to kick back and listen to, but their music is good.”

“Is it...weird? Being a roadie for a band you don’t know?”

“Should it be? John said it’d be better, if I weren’t a crazy fanboy. Less likely to get distracted during shows.” Evan finally set pen to paper, getting some guidelines down before he went in on the details.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Rodney admitted. 

“You should play me other stuff you wrote.” Evan flashed him a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I like hearing something no one else gets to hear. And we hear the band every night.”

“Okay.” Rodney cleared his throat and began to play another melancholy guitar ballad. His voice really was pleasant, and Evan bobbed his head to the song absently while he worked.

The truth about drawing was that it was a pretty technical skill, and Evan had had a lot of practice over the years, so he’d be able to get a pretty good rendering of Rodney even if it wasn’t up to his finest quality work. He’d done pencil drawings and oil paintings that looked like photographs. That had always been his trick. He’d never gone for sweeping expressionism or dramatic abstract art. No - capturing real life down to the finest detail had always been what he was good at.

Tonight he didn’t have the time to make that happen. No, recreating a photograph in pencil or charcoal was about a thirty-hour endeavour. He didn’t want to spend all night drawing. But he wanted to do a good job for Rodney.

Rodney finished one song and switched to another one, one that wasn’t precisely upbeat but was definitely - happier-sounding than the first one.

“How long have you been drawing?” Rodney asked, interrupting himself singing.

“Hm? Since I was a little kid. My mom was always drawing and painting, so my sister and I mimicked her a lot. I don’t know if I had much natural talent, but I liked drawing, so my mom taught me how to improve my skills. Drawing, like music, is more technical than people think and can be improved by practice.”

“How so?”

“Well, everyone thinks the fine details are, well, in the details, the shading and contouring. It’s actually in the planning stages - getting all your guidelines in before you do the fine details. Drawing bigger shapes accurately is harder than small shapes. If you get your guidelines in accurately, everything else is just gravy. Being brave about setting the key of the piece is something beginning artists struggle with, but bold is better than vague.”

“Key? Like music?” Rodney asked.

“Kind of? I don’t know much about music.”

Rodney kept on strumming his guitar, but he nudged Evan with his elbow. “Well, explain it to me. I want to know.”

“It’s setting the darkest point and the palest point on the shading scale,” Evan said. “When you go to shade in a drawing, you do your most extreme tones first, then grade from there.”

“So - kind of like a musical key. Making your own scale, but instead of notes it’s shades.” Rodney smiled to himself, pleased.

“I guess that comparison works.”

“So is it hard? To do a portrait?”

“Well, if I wanted my portrait to look like a photograph, you’re talking about thirty hours of work,” Evan said. “But for a quick portrait, with just a single pen and no blending stump, like the kind you’d pick up on the Pier, they can be done pretty fast.”

“How fast?”

Evan held out the notebook and pen. “That fast.”

Rodney’s hands on his guitar stilled. “That was - wow. You said you were out of practice. But - that looks just like me.” He accepted the notebook and stared at the little sketch.

“I could do better, but for what we’ve got, I’m glad you like it.” Evan smiled.

“No one’s ever done anything like that for me before,” Rodney said. He looked at Evan. “Thank you.”

Evan said, “I get the sense that not very many people are all that nice to you.”

“I - no, I have a good life, I shouldn’t complain, but -”

“We’re even,” Evan said, “because no one’s ever played music just for me.”

Rodney tucked his notebook away reverently. “I’m not looking to get even.”

“I know. We’re being nice to each other, and that’s all right.” Evan nudged him. “So, you heard all about me and my mom and sister and our charcoal-smeared childhood. What about you? Or did you spring from a rock, fully-formed and a musical genius?”

“No. I have a mother and father and a younger sister. My mother was bitter and overbearing, my father a doormat. My sister’s almost as brilliant as I am at music, so as soon as we could, we got out. I don’t talk to my parents much.”

“What about your sister?”

“Every day.”

“That’s good.”

Rodney set his guitar aside. “You never mentioned your father.”

“No. He died before I was born. But my grandma was there, to help raise us. We did fine.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, a strangely somber air falling over them.

Evan cleared his throat. “Snacks?” He started to reach for the little basket of sugar cookies, but Rodney caught his wrist.

“Not snacks. Drinks?” Evan said.

Rodney tugged him in for a kiss. Evan closed his eyes and surrendered. He knew they were going fast, way too fast, faster than he’d ever gone, but he didn’t care, because he was with Rodney, who was smart and beautiful and all his.

Evan let Rodney press him down to the bunk, let Rodney crawl on top of him and keep kissing him.

When they finally parted for air, Rodney asked, “How far do you want to go? I don’t want to push too hard -”

Evan rolled his hips up against Rodney’s. “Harder, please.”

Rodney groaned and caught Evan’s mouth in a kiss again, fumbling between them to try to undress Evan, or possibly himself, but his coordination was shot. Evan reached out, stilled Rodney’s hands.

“Harder isn’t necessarily faster,” he said. He reached out, grabbed his phone, fired off a quick text to John warning him not to come back for a while. Then he pulled Rodney in for another kiss, one hand on his shoulder, the other slowly easing up his shirt, sliding beneath to pet his warm skin. “We’ve got as much time as we need.”

Rodney, panting against Evan’s throat while Evan thumbed one of his nipples, nodded. “All right.”

Evan smiled and peeled his own shirt off, reeled Rodney in closer, and whispered, “Show me what you like.”

*

After, they dozed in each other’s arms, reveling in each other’s warmth. Rodney had soft, pale skin, covered with downy-soft pale gold hair. Evan loved the scent of his skin, the way he tasted.

Rodney’s stomach growling broke their afterglow.

“Sorry,” Rodney said, embarrassed, pulling away.

Evan pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. “I was offering you snacks before you pounced on me.”

“You pounced back,” Rodney protested.

“I’m not denying that. I’m just reminding you that we have snacks and drinks.”

“If I didn’t have delicate health I’d be smoking a cigarette right now,” Rodney said, and Evan laughed.

“Thankfully that’s not a habit I ever picked up, even though it’s ridiculously rampant when you’re in.” Evan rolled over, found his boxer briefs and t-shirt, tugged them on. Then he found Rodney’s clothes and handed them to him, and he found the little picnic basket he’d put together.

“I feel like we’re doing a lot of this backwards,” Rodney said. He pulled on his clothes, then accepted the cookie and napkin Evan handed him.

“Life is short, eat dessert first,” Evan said.

It was Rodney’s turn to laugh, and he pulled Evan into a kiss before he took a bite of his cookie.

Evan served himself a cookie, and he also found some sparkling apple cider for them, since he didn’t know what kind of alcohol Rodney liked to drink (and usually he knew that kind of thing about a person long before he slept with him, but Rodney had turned his world upside down and he hadn’t even realized it).

While they ate, they talked about all the things they liked to eat, interesting things they’d had, fancy restaurants they’d been to, their own cooking skills.

“Le Cordon Bleu? In Paris?” Rodney asked.

Evan nodded. “Yeah. My Nan was an instructor there when she was younger.”

“So when you cook -”

“I cook pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.” Evan pretended to blow on his fingernails and buff them on his t-shirt.

Rodney cast a regretful look at the lame little kitchenette the tour bus had. “Maybe one day you can cook for me.”

“Might not be till the end of the tour,” Evan said. “But I totally will.”

They polished off the rest of the snacks - crackers, cheese, fruit - and the entire bottle of sparkling cider. 

Finally Rodney squinted at his watch. “We’re probably about to have our morning stop. I should get back to my bus. Your teammates probably want their own beds back.”

“If they haven’t passed out drunk on Ronon’s bus,” Evan said.

As if on cue, the bus rolled to a stop. The bus had such dark-tinted windows that it was hard to tell how light the sky was. Evan and Rodney scrambled to throw on the rest of their clothes.

Evan had just gotten his jeans fastened up when the door banged open, and Laura hopped up onto the bus with a cry of,

“Rise and shine, lover-boy!”

She came up short when she saw Rodney, and she almost looked horrified.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were here,” she said, immediately apologetic.

Rodney was blushing furiously. “It’s fine. I should be going.” He stood, toed on his shoes.

“You can get coffee with us if you want,” Evan said.

Laura staggered when Radek ran into her back.

“What is the hold-up?” he demanded, and then his eyes also went wide. 

Why all the weirdness toward Rodney? Evan had never cared much for interservice rivalries. Even though the high-flyers and the ground crew rarely saw each other once they got to the venues and scattered to do their own work, it wasn’t like they competed against each other.

Cam popped up behind Radek. “Hey, Evan, John said you’d put the metaphorical sock on the doorknob - hello, there.” He blinked, then cleared his throat. “Evan?”

Evan reached out, curled a protective hand at Rodney’s hip. “Guys and girls, this is Rodney. He’s on the stage crew. Rodney, these are some of my teammates, Laura and Radek and John.”

“Stage crew,” Cam echoed.

Evan glanced up at Rodney, who had gone very still, his jaw and shoulders tight. “Are stage crew off limits or something?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Laura asked.

Evan frowned. “I’m missing something. What am I missing?”

Hurt curled through him when Rodney pulled away from him.

“Don’t say anything,” Rodney said to Laura, and his expression was unreadable.

It was Teyla who eased her way past all the others and stopped right beside the bunk.

“Good morning, Meredith,” she said. “I did not realize you were here. Jeannie is looking for you.”

“Thanks, Teyla,” Rodney said, his voice strangled.

Evan looked up at him. “Meredith? But you said your name was -”

“Rodney is my middle name,” he said, without meeting Evan’s gaze. “Meredith is pretty much my stage name.”

“You really didn’t know?” Laura asked.

“Know what?” Teyla asked.

Evan shook his head. “No, I - when I got hired on, the only people John introduced me to were you and the stage manager, Elizabeth Weir. During soundchecks we’re always building the set, and then during shows I’m always up top, and it’s my job to spotlight Miko.” He reached toward Rodney - Meredith.

But he flinched away. “I’m sorry, Evan. I have to go.” And he pushed past the others and hurried off the bus.

Evan watched him go, confused and upset. 

John was the last to arrive, bearing coffee and bacon-covered donuts for all. “Hey, was that Meredith leaving the bus? I thought Evan was having a very special date.”

“He was,” Radek said. “With Meredith.”

John nearly dropped the coffee. “With Meredith? Are you insane?”

“He said his name was Rodney.”

*

Evan sat at the table, the others clustered around him.

“You really didn’t know it was him,” John said. He and Cam sat opposite him, Laura beside him, Teyla and Radek leaning against the kitchenette counter.

“For the hundredth time, no.” Evan buried his face in his hands. “I thought he looked familiar, but - Rodney in jeans and a t-shirt is hardly the same as Meredith onstage shirtless in leather pants.”

“But you’ve seen him shirtless up close,” Laura said.

“Last night was the first time, and again, different context.” Evan peered through his fingers at his teammates. They were all staring at him in mingled disbelief and worry. “I ran into him at one of the convenience store stops and we got to talking, and then one night I went to find a quiet place while everyone else was partying and I guess he did the same and we talked. He was nice.”

“And he told you he was on the stage crew?” Cam pressed.

“He said his name was Rodney, which - is not entirely a lie, I guess.” Evan thought back on their conversations. “You know, I don’t think he ever actually said he was on the crew. But when I thought he was, he didn’t say otherwise either.”

“Hooking up with groupies or other roadies or even local venue crew is one thing,” Laura said. “But with someone in the band - that’s different. Dangerous.”

“Why?” Evan asked. “I mean, aside from the obvious part where he’s sort of our boss. He’s nice. We had fun together.”

Radek made a face. “TMI.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Not just sex.”

“You are sincerely fond of him,” Teyla said, and that made the others look even more worried.

“Yeah. I was. I am. I mean - nothing he said was an outright lie. Apart from the fact that women and men the world over scream his name every night on stage, he’s still Rodney, isn’t he? He’s not a different person all of a sudden.” Evan swallowed hard. “Unless he does this every tour? With someone different?”

“Not that we’ve ever heard,” Laura said.

“Are you angry at him?” Teyla asked.

Evan sighed. “No. Maybe. Should I be? He didn’t lie to me, I just assumed -”

“And he let you keep assuming,” Radek said.

Evan scrubbed a hand through his hair. “He was going to tell me eventually, I’m sure. It’s not like we could’ve gone the whole tour like this.”

Except they could have, because ground crew and high flyers didn’t mingle much at all when they were on duty, and Evan wasn’t much for the crew party scene after shows.

Was Rodney a different person, now that Evan knew he was Meredith on stage? All those shouting matches he had with the rest of the band - they were rarely serious, were almost part of the pre-show ritual. Rodney had said he was well-educated musically, had a younger sister. Who was his lyricist, of course. He’d cared that the song he was writing was radio-friendly. All the signs were there. Rodney hadn’t tried to hide it, not really.

“I feel so stupid. I should have known, right?”

“Yes, you should have,” John said.

Evan wilted. “Do you think Elizabeth will fire me?”

Cam shrugged. “If Meredith is mad at you, maybe.”

“Why would he be mad at Evan?” Teyla asked. “Evan engaged in no deception. At worst he was terribly ignorant of the band he is working for.”

“Terribly,” Radek agreed.

Evan buried his face in his hands again. “Well, now I know, so I suppose the show must go on, right?”

“Right.” Laura clapped him on the shoulder and said with false cheer, “That’s the spirit.”

Evan groaned. “Please don’t tell Ronon and the others how stupid I am.”

“Would you rather I tell you to drop and give me twenty?” John asked.

“Yes.”

Teyla said, “I do not think Elizabeth will fire you. Meredith is temperamental and dramatic, but not cruel.”

The bus started to slow.

“This is it,” John said. “It’s show time.”

Evan went to change into a clean uniform. His t-shirt smelled of Rodney. An inexplicable ache curled in his chest.

He fished his phone out of his pocket, composed a text message to Rodney.

_ I’m embarrassed about how oblivious I am for not recognizing you even though I work for you. Please forgive me? _

He stared at it for a long time. 

He hit  _ send _ before he could change his mind.

And then it was all hands on deck, and on the ropes, and in the air.

*

After the concert and breakdown and everyone was on their buses, Evan checked his phone, but there was no answer from Rodney. Was Rodney that upset that Evan hadn’t known who he was? If he’d wanted Evan to know, he’d have just told him, right? Why didn’t Rodney tell him?

Everyone stayed on their own buses that night. Evan had the notion that the others were keeping an eye on him so he didn’t sneak off to see Rodney or whatever, but he was an adult. He could take care of himself. 

Now that he knew who Rodney was, he was...curious. The official bio on the band’s website didn’t tell Evan anything Rodney hadn’t mentioned himself. It was all about Rodney’s fine classical musical education, his affection for his younger sister, his musical genius. How the band had gotten together - Rodney stepping in to play drums one time because the girls’ drummer had been unavailable - was interesting, but not helpful on the issue of why Rodney hadn’t been forthcoming about his identity. 

Evan huddled in his bunk, searching the internet on his phone and pretending he wasn’t still hoping for a reply from Rodney. 

After some more internet research, Evan realized he probably would never get a reply from Rodney. What relationships he’d had with other celebrities had all been dramatic firestorms that had ended badly, and splashed all over the news and social media to boot. He’d had relationships with both men and women, seemed to like them beautiful and brilliant. What relationships Rodney had had with “normal” people had all ended even worse, with betrayals and hyperbolic tell-alls in the tabloids.

No wonder Rodney hadn’t told Evan who he was.

Evan was hurt that Rodney would think he was like the other people he’d dated, though. If there was one thing his previous employment had taught him, it was how to keep a secret, how to be discreet.

Evan sighed, put his phone on the charger, rolled over, and tried to will himself to sleep. Tonight’s concert had gone well, they really did have most of the bugs worked out of the system, and any new bugs were related to specific venues rather than the setup process as a whole. But knowing that it was Rodney down there on the stage, playing those sweeping piano solos or those machine-gun drum beats, made the show a bit of a surreal experience.

The people in the audience screaming Meredith’s name, the band’s name, they all imagined they knew him, after reading and watching carefully-scripted and choreographed interviews, or maybe even the sordid tell-alls. They wanted his attention, his desire, his time. Evan had had all of those things. He’d had Rodney all to himself. Rodney had serenaded him on his guitar. He knew how Rodney kissed, and the taste of his skin.

That was the crux of the matter, though, wasn’t it? Meredith wasn’t Rodney.

Rodney wasn’t real, and people like Evan didn’t get to have people like Meredith.

And then Evan realized. When Rodney had left, he’d forgotten his guitar. Evan had no doubt it was top quality, expensive. He’d be wanting that back.

Evan sighed and closed his eyes. He had a job to do. Nothing he faced in this tour would be harder than what he’d done with the Air Force.

The next morning, when they rolled into a rest stop for food and coffee and fuel, Evan spotted Rodney and his bandmates and some of the actual ground crew waiting in line for breakfast to go at the local diner. Evan had already acquired pastries and coffee for his teammates. He handed them off to Teyla, who nodded understandingly, and then he headed over to Rodney.

“Hey,” he said, jamming his hands in his pockets, because he was nervous.

Rodney and the rest of his bandmates turned to look at him. All their expressions were terribly blank.

“Uh - you left your guitar on our bus,” Evan said, trying for a friendly, non-flirty smile. He suspected he failed. “If you want, you can swing by later to grab it, or -”

“I’ll have someone pick it up,” Rodney said, and turned away from him.

Evan knew a dismissal when he saw one. He inclined his head politely and ducked away, back to his own bus.

When they arrived at the venue, Ronon knocked on the door.

“Hey.” He looked uncomfortable.

“What’s up?” John asked.

“I’m here for Meredith’s guitar,” Ronon said. He cast Evan an apologetic look.

Evan handed it over.

Ronon accepted it and hurried away.

Set-up and soundcheck that day were tense and awkward. Rodney and Jeannie fought far more than usual, and it sounded - personal. Vicious.

Evan, hanging upside down from a harness and trying to screw some light bars into place, did his best to ignore them.

“See?” John said in a low voice. “This is why you don’t mess around with the band. Their performance is very dependent on their emotional state. If they don’t feel right, the audience won’t feel right.”

“I see,” Evan said. “I’ll make sure I’m familiar with the next band whose crew I take up with.”

“Next band?” Cam asked. He and John exchanged worried looks.

Evan rolled his eyes. “Hand me the damn socket wrench.”

Even though soundcheck was fraught, the actual show went well, best as Evan could tell, though he did his best to focus just on Miko, because he was her spotlighter, and as long as he was doing his part right and working well with the other high flyers, it wasn’t his job to worry about the ground crew or stage crew.

Once the show was over, the band did their meet-and-greet with the VIP fans backstage, and Evan and the rest of the crew worked to get things broken down and packed up as quickly as possible, because tomorrow was a rest day, and they wanted to get on that as soon as possible. Mostly Evan had plans to sleep a lot and also get his laundry done, but some time away from the crew and the tense air that surrounded him wherever he went - apparently the entire crew knew he’d hooked up with Meredith - would do him some good.

So as soon as his part was done, he went and rounded up a midnight snack for the others, and he headed for his bus.

The others arrived one by one, and Evan doled out street tacos and helpings of rice pudding and flan.

“What are you going to do with your day off?” Laura asked. The next stop on the tour was Omaha, and her family lived in Nebraska, so she had plans to sneak away and see them.

“Sleep,” Radek said. “And sleep some more.”

“Laundry,” Evan said.

Cam nudged him. “You need it.”

“At least my clothes are still actually black.” Evan nudged him back.

“I understand Omaha has a lovely zoo,” Teyla said. “I wish to see the zoo.”

John said, “I heard the band was going to the zoo.” He cast Evan a look.

Evan shrugged. “Like I said, my big plan is laundry.”

Since Laura’s family was in Omaha, talk fell to where everyone’s families were from. Teyla’s family was from far away, in Tanzania. John’s family was from Virginia, but he had zero plans to stop by and see them when the tour was near. Radek’s family was all back in Prague, and he got to see them about once a year. Cam’s family was in Kansas, and his parents planned on coming down to Kansas City when the tour stopped there so they could see him, have dinner with him - and John.

“Meeting the family for the first time?” Laura asked.

“John came home with me on leave for the holidays a few times when we were in,” Cam said, “so he’s met them before. But this is his first time as my boyfriend.”

“You nervous?” Laura asked John.

He shook his head. “They’ve known Cam is bi for a long time. Plus I think they suspected a little when we were still in even if we didn’t start dating till after.”

“What about your family?” Radek asked Evan. “If you brought another man home, what would they think?”

“They wouldn’t mind at all. They’d just be glad I had someone.” But Evan wouldn’t be bringing anyone home any time soon.

Once they were all fed, they retreated to their separate bunks. Laura and Teyla shared the double bunk that the kitchen table folded down to. Radek and Evan had the single bunks in the middle, and of course John and Cam shared the big double bunk in the back.

As Evan drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder what his family would think if he brought Rodney home with him. Chances were none of them would recognize him either. 

*

The next day, the buses rolled into Omaha, and everyone split up to go do their own thing. During breakfast, Evan searched on his phone for the nearest laundromat, and then he shoved all his dirty clothes into his duffel bag, swung by a bank to get some quarters, and laundry time it was.

Usually when he was hanging around the SLCR facilities on base, if he had time to kill, he’d draw while his laundry ran, so he brought a sketchbook with him.

But the others weren’t around, and since it was noisy and some local news channel was blaring on the TV in the corner, Evan put on his headphones and fired up his phone, listened to music. His taste was a bit stereotypical, for a man who’d grown up on a hippy commune - Kingston Trio, Joni Mitchell, Peter Paul and Mary, Bob Dylan - but it was comforting, so he listened, and he drew. Mostly his teammates. John had fascinating ears. Cam’s nose has been broken once. Beneath his scruff, Radek had dimples and a sweet smile. Laura was bright and exuded energy and enthusiasm. Teyla was beautiful, regal, like a queen. But she had a certain mobility to her expressions, and she could go from sweet to dangerous in an instant, and that was hard to capture.

Inevitably, Evan drew Rodney, because how could he not? They’d had only a couple of evenings together, but something about Rodney had drawn Evan in immediately.

But then Evan closed his sketchbook and set it aside. Brooding about Rodney was pointless. Rodney had made his choice, and Evan had no choice but to live with it.

He couldn’t help but also wonder - had anything between them been real? He’d said Meredith was pretty much his stage name. So was Rodney the real person? Or was it Meredith, with his shouting matches with Jeannie and his brilliance and passion on stage?

Evan paused his music, went searching on YouTube. The band had a YouTube channel, had a big social media presence, but Evan wasn’t much one for social media. After spending most of his life doing highly classified work, he didn’t understand the need to broadcast his every move to the Internet. It made sense for celebrities, though. Fans felt like they knew their favorite stars, had relationships with them, wanted to get to know them better, and what better way facilitate the fantasy than to seem accessible by constantly posting on social media?

Most of the YouTube channel was official music videos, performance videos, and interviews. But there were also more candid videos, like Kate rehearsing one of her dance solos, or Miko playing a classical song on her violin, or Jeannie talking about how tour was going.

And there was one of Rodney, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, his hair tousled, holding his guitar. Because Evan was a fool, he tapped on the video to let it play. 

“Hey there.” Rodney cleared his throat, adjusted his guitar. “I’ve been working on a new song, maybe for the next album. Obviously Jeannie would be the one singing it, which means I’ll probably have to transpose it up a few steps, or maybe drop it a step or two and she can take it up an octave, but - here it is. I tried a bit of it out on a friend, and he said he liked it, so - I hope you like it.”

And he played the song he’d played for Evan.

The chorus was more poignant this time.

_ Close the book and cut the line _ __  
_ Tear up the pages of the secrets _ __  
_ That you’re trying to leave behind _ __  
_ Burn down my memory _ __  
_ But still you’ll find _ _  
_ __ I’m always on your mind

Evan knew he ought to leave Rodney behind. But these days, Rodney was always on his mind.

Was Evan the friend Rodney had mentioned in the video, about liking the song? Not that Rodney didn’t have other friends, like the rest of the band. Only Evan looked at the date the video was posted, and it was the same day they’d had their first - only - date. Would Rodney call him a friend now?

Evan shut down YouTube and returned to his music and his drawing. The texture of Ronon’s hair would be a fun challenge, as would be recreating his tattoos. Once the first load was out of the dryer, he set about folding it, everything one foot square, just how he’d learned in basic.

The rhythm, the mindlessness of the task was comforting, and by the time Evan was done with one load, the next load was ready to fold, and soon everything was back in his duffel bag and he was ready to head back to the bus. He made sure he had his sketchbook and phone, and then he set out, duffel bag over one shoulder. There was an AFB in Omaha, so people didn’t seem too surprised to see him with his duffel bag, and a couple of guys in BDUs nodded at him.

The walk back to the bus wouldn’t be a big deal, assuming it hadn’t moved, and besides, Evan wanted to get a feel for the city. Omaha was humid, compared to the deserts where Evan had been stationed, but after being constantly crammed onto a bus or existing on the narrow space of the catwalks, it seemed big and open and free. The Heartland, it was called. All flat plains and skies that went on forever.

Evan loved big skies, loved flying in them, but he’d never get to fly in them again, not like he once had, and he didn’t think he could handle the skies if all he got was second best. Evan was only human, and no one liked second best.

He had his head tipped back, admiring the way the golden sunlight filtered through the leaves - Omaha was home of Arbor Day, or so cheery road signs proclaimed - and the city was full of lovely green trees. Only the golden sunlight turned to gunmetal gray between one tree and the next, and the blue sky was covered with clouds, and rain was pouring down.

Evan scanned his surroundings, darted for a nearby awning over an entrance to some kind of fancy apartment building. It had a couple of steps up, so his shoes and ankles wouldn’t get soaked by rain bouncing off the pavement. He scrambled up to warmth and dryness and safety, because hell if he was letting his freshly-laundered clothes get rained on and soaked through.

And then someone crashed into him.

“Hey, watch it,” the other guy said, which was rich, because Evan had been there first.

But he said, “Sorry,” anyway, because he didn’t want to cause an unnecessary ruckus, and the other guy looked up at him and - 

Oh. Blue eyes. Crooked mouth. Pale skin adorned with a pretty pink blush. Curly dark golden hair. Rodney.

Meredith, more like, in designer jeans and a silky button-down shirt and an expensive-looking leather jacket.

“Evan.”

“Rodney.”

“I’m impressed he knows your name,” Jeannie said, and the rest of the band crammed under the awning with them.

“He’s not great at remembering crew names,” Miko added. “For at least his first three months in the band he called me  _ Japanese girl _ or Miki-Mika.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Yes, let’s all pick on me. It’s not my fault it’s raining.”

“You were the one who suggested a walk,” Kate pointed out.

“Because fresh air is beneficial, and once the rain stops the air will be even fresher,” Rodney said.

Jeannie looked Evan up and down. “You’re new this tour, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Evan clutched the strap of his duffel bag tightly.

“Am I old enough for a  _ ma’am?” _ she asked.

“Ah - it’s reflexive,” he said. “Sorry.”

Kate prodded his duffel bag. “You served?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you serve with Sheppard and Mitchell?” Jeannie asked.

Evan nodded and bit back another  _ yes, ma’am, _ because he figured it was safer to err on the side of politeness.

“That why you signed on to our crew?” Miko asked.

Evan nodded again.

Jeannie laughed. “You military types are so polite and serious. It’s okay to laugh and smile once in a while, you know. What we do here isn’t exactly life or death.”

“Which is why it’s nice,” Evan said.

“Why are you out here all alone?” Kate asked.

“Laundry. Needed clean uniforms.”

Jeannie nudged him. “Relax. We’re not trying to interrogate you.”

“I appreciate it,” Evan said. “Aggressive interrogation is - unpleasant.”

Rodney frowned. “You’ve been interrogated before?”

Kate nudged him. “It’s rude to ask about that kind of thing.” To Evan she said, “Don’t mind him. He has so much going on in his genius head that he has no room for manners. Or so he says.”

“How long till the rain stops, do you think?” Jeannie asked.

Miko prodded her phone. “It says about another hour.”

Kate tossed her head. “I’m not staying here for another hour.” And she darted out from under the awning and onto the sidewalk, flung an arm out. “Taxi!”

Sure enough, a yellow taxi cab pulled over, and Kate climbed in. Jeannie and Miko hurried after her.

“Wait,” Rodney protested, but he hesitated at the edge of the awning, frowning at the still-pouring rain.

The cab pulled away from the curb.

“You can get a cab if you want,” Evan said quietly. “If you like, I can go hail you one.”

Rodney turned to him. “What, and you’ll just wait here for an hour? If you go to the trouble of hailing a cab, we should just take it back to the venue to together.”

“If you don’t mind sharing, sir,” Evan said, as politely as possible.

Rodney looked at him. “Is this how it’s going to be between us now?”

“I liked how it was before,” Evan said, “but you seem to be uncomfortable around me, so it seems most appropriate if I’m polite. Sir.” He looked away. “Besides, the other high-flyers told me stage crew is off-limits. I apologize for crossing a boundary.”

Rodney sighed. “Evan…”

“Rodney.”

“You don’t call me Meredith, like the rest of the crew.”

Evan glanced at him. “When we first met, you told me your name was Rodney, and you haven’t asked me to call you anything different, but if you want, I will. Meredith.”

Rodney flinched. “No. Don’t.” He sighed. “You really, really didn’t know who I was?”

“I really didn’t.”

“But you liked...me. Rodney-me. Not Meredith-me.”

Evan met his gaze. “All I knew was Rodney-you, the smart guy who’d play me songs on his guitar, who talked to me and kissed me and seemed to like me back. Meredith was - someone else. Onstage. A rock star. Larger than life. He seemed unreal, but I guess once the clock struck Meredith, Rodney was gone for good, hm? And so it’s back to the cinders for me.”

“I did like you,” Rodney said.

“But not anymore, now that I know you’re also Meredith?”

It was Rodney’s turn to look away.

“Nothing I said to you was a lie,” Evan said. He peered out past the awning. The rain had lightened up some. And the street was full of cabs. “Come on. We’d better get back.”

He stepped out into the chilly spring rain, hailed a cab. As soon as one pulled over, Rodney was beside him. He let Rodney climb in first, set his duffel bag between them, and asked the cabbie to take them back to the venue.

By the time they made it back to the venue, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. Evan directed the cabbie to park beside the band’s bus, and he paid, and then he headed back to his own bus, curled protectively over his fresh laundry.

“Thought you were somewhere collecting animals two by two,” Cam said when Evan climbed up onto the bus.

“That was Teyla at the zoo,” Evan said, and she laughed. 

“But seriously. You look like a drowned rat,” Cam said. 

“I tried to wait out the rain so I could walk, but I gave in and took a cab.” Evan stowed his duffel bag under his bunk. 

“Old Market has some pretty nice brew pubs,” John said. “We should go out, get some food, have some nice drinks.”

Evan smiled at him. “I wouldn’t say no to good food.”

*

Good food turned into good drinks turned into a bar crawl that rivaled Evan’s first big weekend pass after he’d started in basic. He wasn’t usually one for getting crazy drunk, but between John constantly supplying him with fancy new microbrews to try and meeting up with Ronon’s team and getting into a drinking contest with Radek and Ronon (poor choice, since Ronon was a mountain and Radek had grown up on homemade moonshine), Evan most certainly did not have his own feet by the time the others hauled him back to the bus.

Because Evan was usually the most responsible one, he was given possession of the key, and Teyla and Cam ended up having to pin him to the side of the bus while John searched his pockets (Ronon and Radek were propping each other up and singing some drinking song in Czech that Ronon was surprisingly good at pronouncing).

“You’re right, though,” Evan said.

“Right about what?” John asked.

“About messing with the band. Bad idea. Bad mojo. Things’re weird now. Not just with Rodney - with the rest of the crew. Everyone thinks I’m a slutty fanboy or crazy gold-digger. After this tour, gonna find a different crew. ’Cuz you’re right.”

“About what?” John asked, and added, “Where the hell did you put that key, Lorne?”

“Being a high-flyer is fun. Except you were wrong.”

“Oh?” John eased his hand into Evan’s back pocket. “I swear I’m not feeling you up.”

“I know. You’ve got Cam.” Evan beamed at Cam.

“Where is the key, Evan?” Teyla asked.

Evan wriggled his hips. “In my pocket.”

“Which pocket?” Cam pressed. 

“I’ve checked them all,” John said.

Radek asked, “What was John wrong about?”

“Check his jacket pockets,” Cam said.

“John said it’d be better, if I didn’t really know the band. No distractions. Next band I’ll know who all of them are so I don’t let any of them break my heart.” Evan nodded decisively. “That’s a better plan.”

“He broke your heart?” John asked. “You guys had one date.”

“It’s - kinda like a junior high crush, all mixed up with do or die. I really, really like Rodney. But Meredith hates me, so - I’ll make it to the end of the tour, I promise. But then a different crew. You know other crews, right, John? Put in a good word for me?” Evan batted his eyelashes for good measure.

“Sure,” John said. “Now, where is the key?”

“What is going on?” Elizabeth Weir demanded.

She came around the corner of the bus - with the rest of the band trailing behind her.

“Ah - Lorne got a little into his cups, but he’s the keeper of the key, so we’re trying to find the key,” John said.

“Lorne?” Weir asked.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Evan said. “John’s not gettin’ handsy with me, promise. The key is in my pocket.”

“Which pocket?” Teyla asked gently.

“Shirt pocket,” Evan said.

And John found the key. “Finally.”

Evan beamed at Weir. “See? Everything’s fine. I promise I’ll be sober tomorrow. And quit at the end of the tour, ’cuz Meredith hates me.” He waved at Rodney for good measure.

“And you’re not allowed to talk to people anymore,” Cam said.

John unlocked the bus, and he and Cam hauled Evan, still waving, up the steps.

Ronon helped Radek up into the bus.

It was Cam who tucked Evan into his bunk, made sure he had a water bottle and aspirin to hand for when he woke the next day.

Which he needed, because he had a raging hangover. Thankfully, the others supplied greasy food to sit heavy in his stomach and soak up the worst of it. He took a long shower, changed into clean clothes, and then it was time to work.

He steadfastly ignored the way some of the other crew members looked at him, simply did his job. If he stayed up on the catwalks and let Cam make the trip up and down more often, well, he didn’t really want to talk to people anyway. As drunk as he’d been the night before, he hadn’t been entirely stupid. Leaving at the end of the tour was the best choice. He’d fulfill his contract, and then he’d move on.

Soundcheck seemed to go well enough, with Meredith back to his usual level of sniping with his sister.

And then there was a crash and a scream and Evan’s heart jumped into his throat. He peered over the edge of the catwalk and saw - part of the stage had collapsed, and everyone was in a huddle. 

Around Kate, who hauled herself up into a sitting position. The venue medic was summoned, and Ronon and another big, strong man on the ground crew helped carry Kate backstage.

The venue crew and the stage crew were scrambling to see what had gone wrong. Weir was speaking, loud and fast and sharp, into her cell phone. The rest of Kate’s bandmates were pale, shocked.

John cleared his throat. “C’mon. The show must go on until we get orders that say otherwise.”

Evan nodded and resumed his work.

They all heard the chatter over the radios, though. Kate had sprained her ankle pretty badly, wouldn’t be able to dance tonight. The band would need to figure out something in place of her dance solo. 

By the time Evan’s part was done and the high-flyers could break for food, it had been decided - an acoustic solo, single spotlight on the soloist. Easy to manage. Laura, who was Jeannie’s spotlighter, radioed in her acknowledgment, and then it was time for lunch. Laura had brought plenty of homemade leftovers from her mother’s kitchen, and she was more than willing to share.

“Did I miss anything when I was gone?” she asked.

“Evan is a maudlin drunk,” Radek said.

Laura waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, do tell.”

Evan winced. “I’d rather not. Radek, on the other hand, is a deceptively good drinker and also has a competitive streak a mile wide.”

“Laura drinks better than I do,” Radek said, and Laura preened.

“I hope Kate is all right,” Teyla said.

“Me too,” Evan said. She’d seemed really nice. All the ladies in the band seemed pretty nice.

He wondered, if he’d met Meredith under different circumstances, if he’d think Meredith seemed pretty nice too.

*

Evan was waiting for his turn to climb up to the catwalk when Weir caught him.

“Lorne,” she said.

He stepped out of line so Cam could go next. “Ma’am?”

“Last night. You said you’d be quitting at the end of the tour, because Meredith hates you.” She led him off to the side of the stage, kept her voice low.

Evan ducked his head, fought down a blush. “I apologize for being indiscreet while I was inebriated, ma’am.”

“Are you sure Meredith hates you?”

“Even if he doesn’t outright hate me, my poor choices have made things difficult for the both of us, and the best thing would be for me to move on once we’re back in LA.”

“What if he wanted you to stay?”

“He doesn’t, ma’am. Or he’d have told me.” Evan cleared his throat. “I’d better get up top.”

Weir studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. If you’re sure. You’ve been a good worker.”

“Thank you. But I’m sure you’ll find someone just as good to replace me.” Evan glanced over his shoulder, saw that it was almost his turn to ascend. He inclined his head politely at Weir and then excused himself, went to hold the bottom of the rope ladder so Laura could make her climb.

Ronon held the ladder for Evan, and finally he was up where he was supposed to be, ready to shine a light on Miko for the world.

The performance went well that night, but there was a shift in the energy when Jeannie came onstage alone during what should have been Miko and Kate’s duet, Miko on violin and Kate dancing. Everyone in the audience knew Kate had been injured - her ankle was in a brace and she’d perched on a stool for most of her performance.

Jeannie sat at the piano and played a beautiful acoustic rendition of Coldplay’s “The Scientist”.

“It’s a little-known fact,” she told the audience once the song was done, “that second to music, Meredith is a scientific genius. Had he focused on something other than music, he’d probably have a couple of Nobel prizes today, probably in physics or engineering. He could unlock the stars. But now he’s a star instead. So I played this song for him.”

Laura spotlighted Jeannie beautifully. She was an artist, started with the spotlight just on Jeannie’s hands on the keys while she played the simple, familiar riff, then widened it to Jeannie herself so she was haloed like an angel once she began to sing. She was beautiful.

So was Rodney. He’d make a beautiful angel.

Had, once, before he’d become famous, posing as a cupid in some kind of artistic calendar that was people painted into murals. 

Once the show was over, encore all done and fans disappeared from the stadium, Evan descended from the catwalks to fetch some tools and send them up to the others so they could dismantle their custom lights.

He didn’t know what to think when Jeannie paused beside him, damp with exertion, and watched him tie the toolboxes to the ropes for Cam and John and Teyla to pull up.

“What did you think?” she asked.

“The show was excellent, as always,” Evan said.

“I meant of my solo.”

“You play very well. A fitting song, for your brother. I hadn’t known he was also a scientist.” Evan avoided her gaze, avoided looking up, was sure his teammates were frowning down at him in disapproval.

“It’s a stereotype, actually. Physicists who are musicians.” Jeannie tossed her dark golden curls. “Tomorrow night we’ll have to try something else. Doctors say it’ll be a while before Kate can dance again.”

“I’m sure whatever you choose will be fine,” Evan said. “The audience loved it.”

Jeannie nudged him. “Did you love it?”

“I - didn’t realize my opinion mattered so much.” Evan blinked at her.

“Well, you’re the ones stuck with us every night. Don’t want it to be boring for you.” She smiled briefly.

“It was a lovely performance,” Evan offered.

“I’ll take it. But still - something else next show.” And Jeannie turned and headed backstage - to go meet the VIP fans.

Evan finished sending up tools, then ascended the ladder back to the others. He’d go bearing drinks so they could stay hydrated. Staying up on the catwalks without creature comforts was a test of wills every time, but once Evan was in the zone, doing his job, it was easy to forget his body’s baser urges for food and water. Besides, there was a sushi place in town that Laura really liked, and Evan was eager to try it, had read some very positive online reviews about it.

Plus, tomorrow was the day John officially met Cam’s parents as The Boyfriend, and the team was talking about maybe making some crew shuffles so Cam and John could skip the concert and maximize their time with the Mitchells.

“Really, it’s not so big a deal,” John insisted. “Like I said, I’ve met them before, and Cam has been out to them for a while. But maybe Teyla could be on the spotlight for Cam? So he can see his parents more.”

“I would gladly assist,” Teyla said, smiling.

“We’ll work it out,” Evan said when Cam opened his mouth to protest.

“Meeting the parents is a huge deal,” Laura said.

Radek shrugged, pushed his glasses up his nose. “How big a deal it is varies from family to family.”

“Have you never taken anyone home to meet your parents?” Teyla asked.

“Where they live back in Prague and I live here, it is a long and expensive journey, and I have yet to find anyone worth - or willing to expend - the effort to see them.” Radek handled his chopsticks very primly.

Evan was sharing a bowl of edamame with Laura, picking at it delicately with his fingers. “I’m sure that they know you make Cam happy, and that’ll make them happy.”

John and Cam exchanged looks, and Teyla changed the subject.

“Evan, what was Jeannie speaking to you about?”

John and Cam immediately fixed their gazes on him.

“She just asked what I thought of her solo tonight. I guess they’re still working out what to do to fill Kate and Miko’s duet.” Evan kept his tone light, casual.

It was the right answer, because talk turned to Radek’s almost having been a physicist and engineer, and the science classes people had taken when they were younger, and their favorite cover songs.

Evan ate in silence and thought if the band sang the song Rodney had written, it would sound like a cover song to him.

*

As soon as the buses rolled into the parking lot at the venue in Kansas City, Cam and John departed to meet Cam’s family for lunch. The others had worked it out with Ronon and the rest of the crew - Teyla would take over Cam’s spot on Kate’s spotlight for that show tonight so Cam could see his family extra.

The venue had a little gift shop, so Evan went and bought some postcards to add to his collection. Sending postcards was a tradition from his earliest days in service, so he could send home pleasant images and his family wouldn’t think about the grimmer details of his postings. He’d managed to find postcards at every stop so far, usually ended up writing and sending them a couple days late, but better late than never as far as he was concerned.

Evan had climbed back on the bus and was sketching pictures of his teammates for his mother, grandmother, sister, and two nephews (Mikey and Gabe insisted on each getting their own postcards now that they were old enough to read) when Teyla caught up to him.

“Your affection for Rodney,” she said, sitting down opposite him. “Is it serious?”

“Felt pretty serious at the time,” Evan said. “It still would be, if I didn’t know who he really was, or even if I did know who he was but he hadn’t brushed me off.”

“Cameron and John say that you are not usually so - quick, with your affections.”

“No, I wasn’t, before.”

“What is different now?”

“Rodney. Never met anyone like him.” Evan shrugged.

“Have you tried to speak to him?”

“He doesn’t seem very interested in speaking to me.”

Teyla reached out, turned one of the postcards around so she could look at the picture on it. “As far as I know, Meredith never dallies with the crew. I wonder what was so different about you?”

“Apparently nothing all that special, in the end. So - you’re on the spotlight for Kate tonight. As terrible as it is, her being injured will make things easier for you, since she won’t be moving much.”

“I have been a spotlighter before,” Teyla said. “We will all have to work together to make sure all of our duties are properly fulfilled.”

It was a pretty transparent change of topic on Evan’s part, but Teyla didn’t call him on it, and for that he was grateful.

That night, Miko was the one who did a solo, played a mournful song on her violin, so Evan was the one on deck to spotlight her. The show went well, and Evan was pleased, not just for himself (he was pretty sure people were no longer staring at him so much) but for the entire crew as a team. When the show was over and everything was packed up, Evan and Laura were supposed to go get food for the rest of the team.

They stood beside the last of the lighting crates as they were packed up and hauled to the trucks, and they talked over their options. Cam would be well-fed, having spent the day with his family (and he’d possibly be returning with some of Mama Mitchell’s home-baked goods), and so they’d have one less person to consider when it came time to pick.

“Honestly,” Laura said, “I just want pizza. I’m feeling lazy.”

“If we get pizza from a pretty nice joint, like maybe one of those wood-fire ovens, that could be nice,” Evan said.

Laura shoved him in the shoulder. “You’re such a food snob, you know that?”

“Liking good food does not make me a snob,” he said, and danced out of reach of another one of her playful shoves.

He crashed into someone else, and he spun around, an apology on his lips.

“Easy there, high-flyer.” It was Amelia, who helped Chuck run sound.

“Sorry,” Evan said, and he called over his shoulder to Laura, “See what you did? You nearly knocked over Amelia.”

“Sorry, Amelia,” Laura said. “But I need you on my side. Evan is a food snob. I said I want pizza and he insists it has to be from a place with a wood-fired oven.”

Amelia raised her eyebrows. 

“I said no such thing,” Evan said. “Laura said she wanted pizza and I said wood-fired pizza sounds good. I didn’t  _ refuse _ other kinds of pizza.”

Laura said, “His grandmother trained as a chef in Paris so he’s a food snob.”

“Really?” Amelia looked him up and down. “You just cook, or bake?”

Evan smiled at her. “I’m impressed you know the difference. Both, actually.”

Amelia smiled and stepped closer to him, but then Miko said, “Hey, Evan.”

He turned, startled. Wasn’t she supposed to be backstage with the rest of the fans, doing the VIP meet-and-greet thing? But he swallowed hard, then offered up a polite smile. “Ma’am, is there anything you need?”

She plopped down on the edge of the stage, swinging her legs like a little kid. Evan had never realized just how tiny she was. In ordinary clothes, with her big round glasses, she looked sweet, cute, and not like the dramatic, gothic rock musician she was onstage. “I was just wondering what you thought of my solo tonight?”

Jeannie had asked him the night before, but he’d thought it was some kind of one-off, anomaly, because he’d been the person handy when she wanted to know. Tonight Miko had deliberately sought him out while he was in the middle of a conversation with others on the crew.

“Ah - I’m not really an authority on classical music, but it sounded good. A little melancholy, but it was good.” He offered her another smile. “I mean, if it was supposed to sound sad, then you hit the nail on the head, so - you going to play again tomorrow night?”

“Maybe,” Miko said, still swinging her legs. “I’m glad you liked it.” She waved, hopped up, and headed backstage.

“What was that?” Laura asked, tone low and suspicious.

Amelia cast Evan a look he couldn’t read.

Evan shifted under the weight of their collective gazes. “So...pizza?”

*

Cam made it back to the bus just as it was getting ready to pull out from the venue, and everyone else was pretty much asleep, sated on pizza and beer, trading stories about what they’d done before they’d become roadies. Teyla had been a dancer, actually done ballet with Kate back in the day - that was how she’d emigrated to America, but after her father died she’d been forced to return home for a while, had been unable to continue her ballet training, but then Kate had abandoned ballet for the band, and Teyla had come back to America on Kate’s invitation, joined the crew as the senior-most high-flyer.

Radek had been an engineering student, but he’d come from a very poor family, and he’d worked as a stagehand and venue crew at his university for money, and then one day he’d been offered a permanent place on a tour crew and had gone up from there, working with various crews till he ended up Stateside with a permanent gig for a successful band that toured a lot, able to send money home to his family and enjoying the chance to travel and see new places.

Laura, like John and Cam, was ex-mil, had been a Marine. She’d been initially hired on to do pyrotechnics, since she’d been an explosives expert, but she’d discovered a love for being a high-flyer after she’d had to substitute for a coworker one night, and she’d stuck to the catwalks and spotlights ever since.

Cam and John had separated from service together, Cam after a mission gone wrong, John because he hadn’t wanted to leave Cam and had had a few too many near misses of his own, and they’d taken up with the band after Cam had sweet-talked his way onto the crew.  _ If we can fly over enemy airspace with people shooting missiles at us, we can strap ourselves to a harness and screw together some lights. _ That Cam had gotten a degree in engineering had probably helped his case.

And now there was Evan, another ex-mil high-flyer.

“How was it with your family?” Evan asked, as Cam settled onto the sofa to tangle himself beside John.

“Good,” Cam said, smiling fondly. “Real good. My mama sends some of her famous pumpkin pie.”

Laura’s eyes lit up. “Oooh! And it’s not even Halloween!” She pounced on the plastic bag Cam had brought with him.

“Also,” Cam said to John, “they love you, and they’re happy for us.”

John ducked his head, blushing, but he didn’t protest when Cam pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stop by and see your brother when we’re in Baltimore?” Cam asked.

John made a face. “A hundred percent sure.”

“How did the show go tonight?” Cam asked.

“Teyla did very well,” John said.

Teyla smiled patiently. “As the others pointed out, Kate is injured, and she did not move around stage much, so my task was quite simple.”

Laura added, “Miko did the solo tonight. Violin.”

“How was it?” Cam asked.

“Good, right, Evan?” Laura cast him a pointed look.

He shrugged. “It sounded good to me, but then I’m the least musical of all of us.” He cast Laura a pointed look and said, “Maybe you should do a tap solo in place of Kate’s dance solo.”

“I don’t think I could choreograph a tap dance solo in less than twenty-four hours,” Laura said.

The others turned to her, considering. 

“Evan has a point,” Radek said.

“Actually,” Teyla said, “Kate has asked me to dance in her place. Someone will have to cover for me.”

“That is a better plan,” Radek said, nodding.

“Yes, it is,” Laura said. She added, “Amelia flirted with Evan tonight.”

Cam raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Do tell.”

“I didn’t flirt back,” Evan said. “She’s not my type.”

“Tall and strong and beautiful isn’t your type?” Radek asked. He looked almost offended on Amelia’s behalf. Did he fancy her?

“Female isn’t my type,” Evan said.

“Fair enough,” Radek said.

Laura opened her mouth to say more, but Evan stood up, headed over to the kitchenette cabinets. He poked around for some paper plates. 

“How about that pumpkin pie?”

“That would be very nice,” Teyla said.

“Let me help.” Laura stood up, went to bring the pie to Evan so he could cut it. She said, in a low voice, “You can’t always distract us with food.”

“Miko talking to me isn’t that big a deal,” Evan said. 

“How did you know I was going to mention it?”

“I’m not blind.”

“Just blind to who you slept with.”

Evan sighed. “I was stupid. I admit it. I don’t plan on being stupid again. Why is everyone acting like I’m a lemming headed for a cliff?”

“Maybe because, when it comes to Meredith and the others, you’re still kind of blind,” Laura said.

“Since when has this been about all the others?” Evan protested, but Laura turned away to hand John a plate with a slice of pie, and Evan was left confused and annoyed.

He was the first into his bunk to sleep, partially because Laura kept casting him strange looks, partially because watching John and Cam be low-key cute with each other was making him a little cranky with envy.

The next day, in an effort to avoid any more accidental interaction with Rodney or the rest of the band, he asked Radek to fetch breakfast and coffee for the team when they made their stop.

Evan climbed off the bus to stretch his legs, and because he could, he called his mother.

She answered after a few rings. “Bluebell, baby boy, it’s so nice to hear your voice.”

Calling his mother and hearing her voice had been a rare luxury when he’d been stationed overseas, and just the sound of it made him smile. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

“I’m doing good. Classes are in full swing. There are some very promising students. And I am seeing some return students, whose talents are only growing. It’s very rewarding to see.”

“That’s nice.” Evan smiled, paced up and down beside the bus. “How are Tally and the boys?”

“Good, good! The boys love your postcards, and things are quite busy at the tattoo shop. Tally’s taken on another apprentice, a lovely talented girl named Luna. You’d like her. She’s a kung-fu fighter.”

“I like her already. How’s Nan?”

“She’s also doing fine. Working on a new recipe for blood orange ice cream. As soon as it’s perfected we’ll send it your way so you can try it out. Maybe impress a date?”

“Not going to find a date while I’m working, Mom. We move from city to city so fast - it’s not really conducive to building a stable relationship.”

“I know, but I can hope, can’t I? For some very cute adopted grand-babies. You should adopt a little girl, so your nephews don’t become complete hooligans. They need some balance, some yang to their yin.”

“Carts and horses, Mom.”

“I know, I know. Speaking of your job, Tally let me listen to some of the music from that band you’re working for. Fascinating stuff. She showed me some videos of them performing on YouTube, too. I tried to spot you, but you’re not anywhere on camera, are you?”

“Even if I were, I’m wearing black and I’m outside the light, so you wouldn’t see me. I’m a ninja.”

His mother laughed. “Well, as long as you’re staying safe.”

“Much safer than I was before,” Evan said, and then winced at the impolitic reminder of his former line of employment.

“It’s unusual, to see one man in a band full of women, but they’re all very beautiful and talented. Powerful stage presence. Do you like their music?”

“It’s not my usual thing, but it’s good,” Evan said. “They are all incredibly talented though, yes.”

“That drummer, with those leather pants and all those muscles and pale skin - is he your type?”

Ever since Evan had come out to her, she’d been trying to set him up with someone. She’d never tried nearly as hard when she thought he was straight.

“He’s very attractive, Mom. Being attractive is part of his job.”

“Tally thinks he’d look good with a few tattoos. Does he have any tattoos?”

“No, he doesn’t have any tattoos, Mom.”

“Unusual in a rock musician. Do you mean he doesn’t have any tattoos  _ anywhere?” _

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“That’s a shame. Wait - how would you know that?”

Evan came up short. Then he heard the bus start to rumble. “I have to go, Mom. Bus is leaving. Give my love to everyone. I’ll see you when we get back to LA.” And he ended the call.

He went to help Radek carry breakfast and coffee onto the bus, and they were on to the next city.

*

Evan had never appreciated just how well Teyla knew the band. During set-up and soundcheck, the rest of the high-flyers had been very cognizant of Teyla’s absence, making sure they were managing their spotlights as well as covering her duties, but they couldn’t help peeking at the stage, seeing Teyla in sweatpants and a tank top and ballet shoes, stretching while the rest of the band talked to her. They were warm with her, familiar with her.

And then it was Kate, on a cello, who played while Teyla danced.

“Did she choreograph that today?” Evan asked, awed.

Laura shook her head. “No. She’s good enough to improv. As long as she’s heard the song beforehand, knows some of the highlights to hit, she’ll do fine.”

“How long does it take, to get good at doing improv like that?” Evan knelt beside Cam, handing him wrenches while he assembled his share of the light bars.

“Some people are better at choreography, others at improv,” Laura said. “But just looking at her move - a lifetime.”

Teyla looked lovely during soundcheck. Evan took over spotlighting Kate while she played her cello, so Cam could spotlight Teyla, since he had experience spotlighting a dancer on the move. Spotlighting a dancer while she did improv would be hard, but he was good.

During the show, Teyla looked amazing, in a sleek black sleeveless dress with a flowing skirt that swirled when she turned but clung when she did extensions, showing off the lines of her legs. Kate’s introduction for Teyla was warm and genuine, admiring, and after, while the audience roared its approval, Kate and Teyla hugged before Teyla slipped offstage during the blue-out.

Naturally, as soon as the show was done and it was time to breakdown, everyone descended from the catwalks, ostensibly to fetch their tools, but really to congratulate Teyla, who emerged from backstage in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt. Laura hugged her, spun her around, and the others shook her hand.

“You looked amazing out there,” Evan told her. “You should dance more often.”

“Oh, she will,” Kate said, limping to the edge of the stage on crutches, her injured foot in a bright pink cast. “We’ve decided to do rotating solos, since Teyla’s needed up top, but we will be borrowing her again.”

“I’m glad you did,” Evan said. He offered Teyla a gentle hug.

She pressed her forehead to his in appreciation. “Thank you, Evan. You are always so kind.”

Kate said, “Will you sign my cast?”

Evan pulled back from Teyla. “Pardon?”

Kate held out a black permanent marker. “Or draw something, if you don’t want your name on my limb.”

“Draw something?” Evan echoed, faltering as he reached for the pen.

Kate winked. “I hear you’re pretty good.”

“I’m sure whoever you heard that from was being too kind,” Evan said finally. But he accepted the marker and signed his initials on a blank space on her cast and, as an added touch, drew a caduceus.

He handed the marker back.

Kate tilted her cast to look at his work. “I like it. Thank you.”

“Get well soon,” Evan said. 

The rest of his teammates were staring at him. But he smiled brightly at Teyla and said, “So, superstar, where do you want to eat tonight?”

Teyla chose a steakhouse, which surprised everyone, but they managed to get their meals to go, and then they gathered on the bus. Someone had recorded Teyla’s dance performance and uploaded it on YouTube. It took a bit of searching to find a decent recording, but once they did, they rewatched it, with Teyla and Laura adding their expert color commentary.

Evan couldn’t stop replaying his interaction with Kate over and over in his head. She knew he drew. How had she known that? Other than that Rodney must have told her. He hadn’t included his drawing talents on his resume when he’d applied.

So after the meal and conversation wound down, he retreated to his bunk, and he fired up his phone.

Searching. On the internet. For Rodney. 

It was stupid and silly. He was supposed to be getting over Rodney. And really, how long should it take to get over a guy he’d hung out with once and gone on a date with once (and, okay, also slept with once)? He’d probably get over Rodney faster if he stopped watching videos of Rodney on YouTube and looking at pictures of Rodney on Instagram and - 

Hang on. 

Evan blinked.

There, on Rodney’s Instagram feed, was the little portrait he’d done of Rodney on their one and only date.

Posted yesterday.

_ A friend drew this for me. He flatters me, _ was the caption.

Of course there were a thousand likes and hundreds of replies, mostly along the lines of  _ No, you’re even handsomer than that! _

Evan was gratified to see a couple of comments along the lines of  _ Your friend is talented. _

Did Rodney think of Evan as a friend? Maybe he was just being polite. Or maybe there just wasn’t a good way to say  _ one night stand _ without coming off like a crass, selfish rockstar who broke groupies’ hearts left and right.

How had Kate known that Evan was the one who’d drawn the picture, though?

Maybe that was why Rodney’s caption used the word  _ friend.  _ He’d probably had to run the post past his publicity team before it went live, and he’d probably had to explain everything with Evan. Or maybe not everything. Just enough that Evan was a  _ friend _ and not a  _ random hookup _ or  _ one-time fuck-buddy. _

Evan huffed and shut off his phone, shoved it under his pillow. He was being a teenage girl.

But then he’d never really had the chance to be a teenage boy, had he? Working with Mom and Nan to keep the commune afloat and studying hard to get into the Academy - and then he’d been an officer, all dignity and responsibility and -

No, he’d had fun as a kid, bonfires and surfing, road trips and sleeping out under the stars, laughter and pleasure.

But not love.

He’d never let himself love.

He’d let himself too easily with Rodney, and this was what had happened.

Evan fished his phone out from under his pillow, fired up Instagram, looked at that little drawing. It wasn’t his greatest work, but it was beautiful.

*

Given what Evan had heard from the rest of the band, about each of them taking turns doing a solo number now that Kate was injured, he should have expected that Rodney was going to do a solo number.

He finished his portion of the set-up and didn’t stick around to watch the rest of Rodney’s solo soundcheck, headed out into the early summer mid-morning to get some fresh air and maybe do some sketching.

“You’re really leaving at the end of the tour.” John plopped down next to him.

Evan, sitting on the back loading dock, glanced at him. “Seems like it’s what’s best for everyone. For the crew, for the band. Sorry for being such a screw-up after you put your neck on the line for me.”

“Wasn’t really my neck,” John said.

He and Evan had literally risked their lives for each other before.

Evan shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m not mad.” John leaned back on his hands, tipped his head back, closed his eyes, basking in the sun. It was something he’d never done when the sun had been beating down on burning desert sands. “I can’t even blame you. I mean - Meredith’s talented, attractive. People would kill to be in your shoes.”

“Maybe I’d let one of them,” Evan murmured, mostly to himself.

John swatted him on the arm. “Don’t be such an emo kid.” He sat up straighter. “I still can’t believe you didn’t know it was him.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to know,” Evan said. “Maybe I wanted him to be just Rodney because guys like me don’t get guys like Meredith.”

John fiddled with the multitool on his keyring. “You’ve always been so careful, you know that? So cautious. When we were in, before Cam and I got together, you and I could’ve. But you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, well, look what spontaneity has gotten me,” Evan said. “I fall for a guy and sleep with him on the first date and he refuses to talk to me after that.”

“You really fell for him?” John asked.

“I was well on my way. Probably would’ve, if I hadn’t found out that morning. And then I’d be worse off, so I guess in the end you all did me a favor.” Evan cast John a sidelong glance. “But you don’t have to worry about me. You know I always look after myself.”

“Except when you don’t,” John pointed out.

Evan sighed.“Yeah, well, lesson learned.”

And then John set his keyring aside, turned to look at Evan fully. “Why do you think guys like you don’t get guys like Meredith?”

“If guys like me did get guys like Meredith, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. The morning after our first and last date, he wouldn’t have cared that I know who he is.” Evan reached into his pocket for his own keys, tossed them up and caught them, did it again. And again till he didn’t have to think about it. “What’s with you being all sympathetic now? You were pretty pissed off that Meredith and I knocked boots.”

“You’ve been moping like a teenage girl,” John said. “Sleeping with Meredith was a phenomenally bad idea, but I still feel bad that you feel bad.”

“Well, I think there’s been enough feeling bad.” Evan caught his keys one last time, pushed himself to his feet, pocketed them. “I’m getting over Meredith, and you don’t have to feel bad anymore either. The show must go on.” He offered John a hand.

John let Evan pull him to his feet. “The show must go on,” he said, and they headed back inside, taking their time, waiting for Meredith’s solo soundcheck to get done.

Evan felt like the others were looking at him strangely when he returned, but he appeased them with coffee, and they all settled back into their working groove. 

*

Even though Evan and his teammates weren’t performers, they were still performing when the show started. They still felt the tension rise when the lights went dark, when the audience started to scream and cheer for the band as they came onto the stage. Because they were working as a team, a massive, multi-headed, multi-limbed unit, lights and sound, costume and stage, instruments and props.

The tension was nowhere close to those moments before takeoff, before heading into combat, when an emergency alarm sounded on base.

Evan was learning to enjoy the butterflies in his stomach. They gave him something to overcome, to conquer.

Tonight, he was going to conquer.

His resolve fractured when Rodney’s solo arrived and he appeared on stage with an acoustic guitar in hand.

The audience whooped and hollered. Rodney hopped up onto the stool Kate usually sat on, and he adjusted the microphone upward.

“I know this is pretty atypical,” he said, “but contrary to popular belief, I can play the guitar, and I can also sing.”

There was more cheering.

“And tonight I wanted to do something different.”

John was Rodney’s spotlighter, so the rest of them could take a break, relax, even stand up and stretch a bit. Evan was frozen in his seat, waiting for those familiar acoustic chords to spill over him, about someone always being on his mind.

“I know I posted a video of an acoustic guitar performance a while back, but this is a different song. A new one I wrote,” Rodney said.

And he began to play.

The chords he played were - sweeter. Brighter.

And he began to sing.

_ Baby, I’m trying to make some sense _ __  
_ Of all we should’ve learned from experience _ __  
_ We win, we lose, we conquer and we fail _ __  
_ One part serious, do or die _ __  
_ Another part crush in junior high _ _  
_ __ I’m chasing my emotions like a tail

Evan stared at Rodney, who looked - happy. Was smiling as he sang. This was a love song. Who was he in love with?

“Evan?” Cam asked over the radio. “What is this?”

“Why are you asking me?” Evan protested, but it was half-hearted, because he was focused on Rodney.

“That night you got super drunk,” Cam said. “You said  _ It’s kinda like a junior high crush, all mixed up with do or die.” _

“You don’t think Rodney stole his lyrics from Evan, do you?” Laura whispered.

They were on their private team channel so the rest of the crew couldn’t hear them.

Evan’s heart was pounding.

“I think,” John said, “this song is  _ about _ Evan.”

Rodney segued into the chorus, and Evan felt hope surge in his chest. He pushed it down. No. This song wasn’t about him. Songwriters didn’t have to write a song about an actual person to make it vivid and alive. Rodney was a genius. For him to whip out out a radio-friendly hit was a no-brainer. But he’d captured exactly how Evan felt.

_ The cold winds are blowing, I should be going _ __  
_ I'm in over my head _ __  
_ Without even blinking, you’ve got me thinking _ __  
_ I would be better off dead _ _  
_ __ Yeah, I’m in over my head

“Evan?” Teyla asked. “Does any of this song sound familiar?”

It sounded like Rodney had pried open Evan’s chest and read the words on his beating heart and committed them to four chords and guitar strings.

“It couldn’t sound familiar,” Laura said. “Meredith said it was brand new.”

_ You made me weak, I made you laugh _ __  
_ Driving through the rain in a yellow cab _ __  
_ The taste of your kiss is with me even now _ __  
_ But this thing we’ve got goes by different names _ __  
_ Never two days in a row the same _ _  
_ __ I wanna stop feeling this, but don’t know how

Evan thought of the two of them hiding from the rain, that awkward cab ride.

How Rodney seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind. Did he want Evan to go or stay? 

Evan wanted to stop being so damn in love with Rodney, but he didn’t know how.

The audience was singing along by the final chorus.

“That’s how you know it’s a good pop song,” Cam said. “People catch on fast.”

When the song ended, the audience burst into applause and cheers and shouts and screams. 

Rodney took his bows, and was it just Evan’s imagination, or did he look up toward the high-flyers?

But then John cut the spotlight and it was time for blue-out and Rodney handed the guitar to Ronon, went to resume his place behind the drums.

Evan forced himself to take a deep breath. He said to the others, “It was just a song. Let’s keep going.”

And he did. Made sure Miko was lit up like the star she was, that she had the right amount of light on her when it was her turn to shine.

After, he climbed down as fast as he could to grab tools for the others. If he got back up to the catwalks fast, well, he wouldn’t have to endure anyone in the band asking what he thought of tonight’s solo.

Ronon handed over the high-flyers’ tool kit, and Evan went to tie it to the rope for the others to haul upward, and in retrospect he should have asked one of them to come get the tools even though he didn’t have seniority and got stuck with the majority of the climbing. 

“Hey, Evan.” It was Rodney.

Evan turned slowly. “Sir. What can I do for you?”

Rodney cast Ronon a look, and Ronon immediately made himself scarce, dragged a few of the other ground crew with him.

“You don’t have to call me that.” Rodney’s expression was pained.

Evan tugged on the rope so John would know to haul it up, then faced Rodney fully. “Is there something you needed?”

“About my solo tonight,” Rodney said. “What - what did you think?”

“As I’ve said before, I’m no musical export, but it was a pretty song. Radio-friendly. Had people singing along.” Evan kept his tone calm, polite.

“I meant it,” Rodney said. “Every word. With you, I’m in over my head. I don’t know what I’m doing. There’s never been anyone like you before. I just - I liked that you liked  _ me, _ and I thought you wouldn’t like Meredith, and -”

“I didn’t even know Meredith, and I never got the chance to,” Evan said.

Rodney took a deep breath, stepped closer. “Elizabeth says you plan on leaving at the end of the tour, taking up with a different crew.”

“Seems like what’s best for both of us. You wouldn’t even look at me. Might as well save you the trouble of constantly trying to avoid me.” Evan reached for the rope ladder, but - it was gone. He frowned, peered up at the catwalks, but his teammates were scurrying about industriously, working on the lights. He tapped his radio. “Send down the ladder, please.”

“Once you have finished speaking to Meredith, I shall,” Teyla said.

Evan turned back to Rodney. “Did you put them up to this?”

“No! I just - I wanted to say I’m sorry. For being insecure and an ass. I mean, why would Meredith McKay be insecure? But you’re beautiful and funny and talented and nice and brave and - and you liked  _ me. _ Rodney McKay. And then I’d lied to you and - please don’t go. Stay. On the crew.”

“The crew doesn’t need me, not really. There are plenty of talented people who can replace me,” Evan said.

Rodney stepped closer to him, reached out, hesitated. “Then stay - stay for me.”

Evan looked at him. “For you?”

Rodney swallowed hard, nodded. “Not just  _ for _ me.  _ With _ me.”

“What does that mean?” 

“It means - like before. Midnight picnics. Talking. I’ll play you music. You could draw for me? We could just  _ be _ together. I mean, we’re both so busy.”

Evan’s heart thumped hard and heavy in his chest, but he could keep cool under pressure, under stress, under strain. Or panicking, because he’d been on the precipice of giving up precisely what Rodney was offering him, and here it was, being offered on a silver platter.

Maybe.

“So - just Evan and Rodney, and we both go back to pretending Meredith isn’t real?”

Rodney’s expression turned uncertain. “I’m Meredith. And Rodney. I’m both, and I can’t really change that. Do you not want to be with me? Because of Meredith?”

“I don’t really care about Meredith versus Rodney,” Evan said. “The person who seemed to care was you. I didn’t care. You were the one who didn’t tell me who you were, and then when I found out, you left. Wouldn’t talk to me. Wouldn’t even look at me. I don’t know what to think.”

“Because I didn’t know what to think,” Rodney said. “I lied to you. I figured you were mad, and - I don’t like it when people are mad at me. At least, not people I care about. And then you  _ were _ mad at me, and I didn’t know how to apologize. So I wrote you a love song.”

“A love song,” Evan echoed. “Does that mean you love me?” Because he didn’t dare admit that he was in love with Rodney. That way lay madness.

Rodney wet his lips. Then he said, “Not here. Let’s talk somewhere private.” He turned to head backstage.

“Why? So no one can find out about me, your dirty little secret?” Evan asked, but he followed, because for some stupid reason he was drawn to Rodney.

“Some secret you are, me singing about you to tens of thousands of strangers,” Rodney shot back. 

He led Evan through the warren of backstage passages, to a tiny dressing room far from the main bustle of activity. He closed the door behind them, and they stood looking at each other across a barren, dimly-lit room.

Finally Rodney said, “Yes, I love you.”

Evan’s heartbeat stuttered.

Rodney said, “I love you, and I was stupid, and I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

Because there really was no other answer, Evan said, “Yes.”

Rodney kissed him.

Evan closed his eyes and surrendered, let Rodney press him up against the vanity and crowd up close between his thighs, let Rodney take his breath away.

_ “Will Hunting to Bluebell, do you copy?” _

Evan yanked himself back.

“What’s wrong?” Rodney asked, eyes wide.

Evan tapped his radio. “I copy.”

John said,  _ “Are you done having your moment? Because we need all hands on deck if we want to get out on time.” _

Evan sighed. “You have really lousy timing, but I’ll be there.” He looked at Rodney. “The others need me.”

“Oh. I - I thought you’d changed your mind.” Rodney wilted with relief.

Evan reeled him in for another kiss. “How could I, after you sang about me to tens of thousands of people?” He slid off the vanity table and went to pull open the door. “Come on. The sooner I get done with my work, the sooner you can have me all to yourself, all right?”

“All right,” Rodney said, and leaned in for one more kiss.

A lightning storm of flashbulbs went off.

Evan reacted without thinking, shifted so Rodney was behind him, so he was between Rodney and the threat.

Which was, apparently, a dozen reporters who Jeannie was leading on a backstage tour.

More flashbulbs went off.

“Hey, Meredith,” Jeannie said, her tone carefully neutral but her expression amused.

The reporters began firing off questions at a mile a minute.

“Meredith, is this who you sang about in your solo tonight?” “How did you meet?” “How long have you been together?” “Is it serious?” “Have you met his family?”

Evan took a breath, forced himself to assess the situation. All the reporters looked eager and curious, but none of them looked inclined to try to tackle him. 

So he said to Rodney, “I better go help my team. See you after.” And he pressed a kiss to Rodney’s cheek, calm as you please, bade the reporters farewell, and walked away. He didn’t try to cover his face, but he had a job to do.

When he got back out to the arena, the others had let down the rope ladder, and he ascended, but he already felt like he was flying.

*

Evan came awake sharply when his phone started to shrill. He usually set it to vibrate, but if it was making that noise, it was some kind of emergency.

He went to shift, couldn’t move.

Rodney was asleep on his arm.

Evan wriggled a bit, arched up, found his phone, and thumbed it on.

“Go for Lorne.”

“Where’s Meredith?” Jeannie asked.

Evan peered at the number on his screen. It said  _ Ronon. _ “Um, he’s right here. Did you need him?”

Rodney stirred.

“Elizabeth wants to talk to him.”

Elizabeth. Dammit. After the concert last night, after Evan had finished helping the high-flyers with their share of the breakdown - and endured an awful lot of ribbing - he and Rodney had been given use of the back bunk on the high-flyers bus. They hadn’t talked about the reporters who’d caught them kissing.

In fact, they hadn’t much talked at all.

“Do you want me to put him on, or do you want me to tell him to get dressed and come find you?” Evan squinted at his watch. It was almost time for the mid-morning coffee break. The buses would be stopping soon.

“I think you’ll want clothes on for this conversation,” Jeannie said, and she sounded terribly amused.

“Okay. I’ll wake him up,” Evan said.

“’M already awake,” Rodney mumbled against Evan’s skin.

“Make it fast,” Jeannie said, and hung up.

Evan set his phone aside, then leaned in, kissed Rodney on the mouth. “Hey, we’d better get dressed. Buses will be stopping soon, plus Elizabeth wants to talk to you.”

Rodney opened one eye and glared at him, then rolled over and promptly went back to sleep.

Evan was torn between laughing and being offended. Rodney’s hair was sticking up all over the place and he was sleep-warm and soft, adorable. But also he needed to wake up to talk to Elizabeth.

Evan’s phone buzzed again. Another incoming call. His mother.

He reached out, snagged his phone, swiped it unlocked.

“Hey, Mom.”

Only it was a video call, and she had Tally and Nan crowded in with her.

“Evan Bluebell,” she said, “why aren’t you awake and dressed at this hour of the morning?”

Evan sat bolt upright. “Mom!” He scrambled for the nearest piece of clothing, tugged it on. It was Rodney’s t-shirt. No way she’d know that.

“Usually we go to bed really late, so we sleep in late,” he said. “Uh, hi. How are you? Is everything all right?”

Nan said, “Who was that in bed with you?”

Tally added, “He was cute. For a sleepy guy with messy hair.”

“Ah - we haven’t decided on terms yet,” Evan said, which was true.

“Boyfriend,” Rodney mumbled. “I’m his boyfriend.” He pushed himself up, scowling adorably. “Fine. You win. I’m awake.” He pressed a kiss to Evan’s cheek. “Hey. You’re wearing my t-shirt.” He smiled against Evan’s skin. “I like it when you wear my clothes.” He started to slide a hand beneath said t-shirt.

“Whoa, hey, not in front of my family,” Evan said. “Mom, Nan, Tally, I should go. The buses are stopping. It’s time for breakfast. I’ll call you later when I’m more presentable.”

“Wait, what’s your boyfriend’s name?” Mom protested.

The door to the back bunk flew open, and there was Elizabeth Weir, pristine and perfectly put together in a power suit and a red blouse and gleaming pearls.

“Meredith Rodney McKay,” she said.

Rodney yanked the covers up to his chin. “Woman! A little privacy.”

“Gotta go,” Evan said to his family and ended the call, tossed his phone aside. He was starkly aware that he was wearing nothing but Rodney’s t-shirt. He’d always imagined the horror of getting caught in flagrante delicto by a superior officer. He was pretty sure this was exactly what it would be like.

“I have been fielding calls and emails all night about your newest romance,” she said. “There are pictures of you two all over social media. So far no one has identified Evan, but speculation is running rampant.” She eyed Evan. “And you. You couldn’t have had the good grace to, I don’t know, cover your face or something while they had cameras out?”

“Why?” Evan asked. “Everyone knows Rodney’s bi. And it’s not like I’m ashamed of dating him. I don’t think he should be ashamed of dating me.”

“I’m not,” Rodney said. He reached out, caught Evan’s hand in his and held it tightly.

Elizabeth eyed them. “Well, Evan, are you prepared for the storm that’s to come? Reporters constantly trying to invade your privacy, members of the public constantly criticizing your appearance and whether you’re worthy of Meredith?”

Evan looked at Rodney, whose expression had turned pale and pinched.

“As long as they’re not trying to actively shoot me out of the sky, I don’t care what they have to say,” Evan said. “Pretty sure they can’t be any worse than terrorists in the sands of Afghanistan.”

“Well, you’ll need to make some kind of statement. At least you’re not dating another starlet. Their PR teams are the worst.” Elizabeth sighed. “When you have a break, come talk to me and the rest of the team and we’ll figure things out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Evan said.

“I take it this means you won’t be leaving the crew at the end of the tour?”

“No, I’m not leaving,” Evan said.

Rodney squeezed his hand again.

Elizabeth said, “Don’t hurt him.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Finally, Elizabeth smiled. “Good luck, boys. And Rodney - keep up the songwriting. Over My Head could be a pretty killer radio hit.”

She turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Rodney turned to Evan. “Are you sure you want to do this? With me?”

“I am,” Evan said. “After what I’ve seen and done, some angry teenage girls and boys aren’t going to scare me. Now come on, let’s get some clothes on and get some food. Before you go into hypoglycemic shock. You want your shirt back?”

“No. Like I said, I like you in it.” Rodney pulled Evan in for a slow, thorough kiss.

Then they dressed, straightened out their hair as best as they could, and went to join their respective teams for breakfast and coffee.

As they stepped off the bus, hand-in-hand into the morning sun, Evan knew everything was going to be - well, maybe not easy, but all right.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Over My Head by Richard Marx, and other lyrics from the song are included in the story.
> 
> Also lyrics from Always On Your Mind by Richard Marx and Matt Scannell.
> 
> Cookies to whoever can identify which band Rodney's is modeled after.


End file.
